


Divine

by MidwesternDuchess



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: But to be fair, F/M, I'll throw it out there, a little heavy-handed on the angel imagery, also mccree will do anything ana tells him to this is a Fact, anyway a first meeting of sorts, it kinda counts, not super shippy but ehhhh, she wears fuckin angel wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-02 23:37:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8688031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidwesternDuchess/pseuds/MidwesternDuchess
Summary: “Everything I’ve ever let go of has claw marks on it.” -David Foster Wallace 
  (She finds him battered and broken and bleeding and thinks him dead. He sees her wings and thinks her an angel. Both are absolutely incorrect.)





	

Genji feels hands on him, and thinks— _he came back._

Because of course he would. Hanzo doesn't leave things unfinished or incomplete. He's perfect that way—forever cleaning up his little brother's messes. Even when his little brother _is_ the mess—a mess of a half-dead, disgraced heir.

Genji hacks—feels wet blood splatter across his chest—and tries to shift in the snow where he lies. Pain lances up his spine at the movement. He can't feel anything below his ribs.

Genji wants to mock him—a thousand barbs and jabs and insults jump to his frazzled brain, but he just manages a cough. Blood keeps seeping out from his chest—the warmth of it contrasts with the frigid snow, numbing him. Or maybe his body's just shutting down. He's not sure.

He realizes someone's been talking this whole time, and tries to focus in on their voice. It's light and high and clear as a bell. Not at all like Hanzo's low, dark, refined speech.

Hands on him then—small, gloved, delicate, gentle—Genji's body twitches at the contact, and he forces his eyes open to see what's going on.

It's an angel. Genji squints, blinded by the whiteout and the glow of the angel's wings. Her hair hangs low, hiding her face as she kneels in the snow beside him, hands pressed firmly against the gaping hole in his stomach, chattering away in that gentle, soothing voice.

She's dressed in a pearly-white armor that's splattered with blood, great wings spread behind her as she keeps her hands steady against his abdomen.

He tries to speak—has he already died?—but he can't move his jaw.

"Shhh," the woman soothes him, and his face twists with pain as he feels more pressure on the wound. "You will be fine, can you hear me? You are safe, Genji."

Genji feels lightheaded, and closes his eyes when the world begins to spin and tumble. He doesn't _feel_ safe. He feels like _dog_ shit.

He wants to ask about Hanzo. He wants to ask about the gaping hole in his chest. He wants to ask about Heaven, and if he's really dead, because if he is then he wants to have a word with whatever god is around, because his first impression of the place isn't _stellar—_

"Mercy!"

A harsh curse falls from the angel's lips, and Genji cracks his eye open, watching blearily as the blonde looks up—halo-shaped headpiece gleaming gold in the winter sun—to fling a look of absolute fierceness at a figure Genji can't see from his current vantage point of half-dead, ass-deep in the snow.

"He can't be _trusted—"_ the voice snarls.

"I am not handing him the codes to our _headquarters,_ Reyes, I am keeping him from _bleeding out—"_

"Nothing," a third voice interrupts. Genji strains, but can't catch sight of the new speaker. He hears an odd noise as the man approaches—spurs? He's _definitely_ not in Heaven—and he speaks again. "Chased the bastard all the way to the cliffs, Ange. He's long gone."

There's a pause, and Genji watches as a man with an enormously brimmed hat leans over him, into his line of sight. He lets out a low whistle.

"He dead?"

The angel shoots him an annoyed glance, hands still pressed firmly to Genji's abdomen, and the younger Shimada heir can't help but close his eyes with the ghost of a smirk on his ashen face. At least he'll die mildly entertained.

"No, he is not _dead,"_ he hears the angel retort. "But he _will_ be if you keep standing here _uselessly."_

There's a rustle of clothing, a crunching of snow, and when the cowboy speaks again, his voice is much closer.

"What can I do?" He's knelt beside the angel.

She sighs. "I was talking to the Commander, McCree."

"Why can't I help?" A very put-upon tone for a man who's wearing _spurs,_ in Genji's own opinion.

"Because your hands are filthy. Reyes?"

Genji hears a derisive scoff, and forces one eye open to watch as the great, dark man turns his back on the angel.

Her lips pulls back in a snarl at the action, before she's looking away, dropping her gaze back to Genji.

They're eyes catch, and she offers a weary smile that he returns as best he can. Beside her, the cowboy tips his hat.

Genji lets his eye fall shut, and promptly hears the cowboy mutter, "You sure he's gonna be okay? His eye's all fucked up—"

 _"Enough,_ McCree. Reyes, _Ich schwöre bei Gott,_ I do not give a good goddamn about your ridiculous pride, get _down_ here—"

"I'm here Angela," a calm voice, smoothly accented. Warm and low and steady. "Move, Jesse. What do you need?" A scramble of movement and a rattling of spurs as the cowboy apparently obeys, and a new presence settles at his side.

"Glad we're telling this fucker all our names," the one called Reyes remarks loudly. Genji imagines him standing with his back still turned. "You know. When he wakes up and _kills_ us all."

"Shut up, Gabe," the woman chides him. He feels a second pair of hands press upon the angel's, and hisses at the pressure.

"Easy, Genji," the angel murmurs. "McCree, my staff—"

"Thought my hands were too _filthy,_ Doc." The look the angel gives him for this comment must be very persuasive, because in the next breath he hears the telltale spurs of the cowboy as he hastens away, returning a moment later.

"Thank you," the angel murmurs, and her hands—smaller than the other woman's—leave his side. Genji drags his eyelids back again—he wonders what they look like to earn the cowboy's assessment of _fucked up_ —and sees a different woman kneeling before him, older than the angel, baring a curious mark under her eye. Her gaze his fixed to his side, where her brown hands press tightly against the wound. He purses his lips. The snow around him is completely crimson.

The angel returns on his other side, and Genji tries to turn his head to keep her in his line of sight. The movement shoots a bolt of pain straight up his spine, and he winces, a curse falling brokenly past his locked teeth. The angel hushes him again.

"Be still, Genji. You are in good hands, I promise."

She pulls something out from behind her, and Genji can just catch the glimpse of a sort of staff in her hands. She moves to hold it closer to him, the pronged head glowing softly over the other woman's hands.

For a moment, nothing happens. Genji watches blurrily as some sort of light seems to pour from the tip of the staff—part of him is fascinated, most of him is fighting just to keep his eyes open. He hears broken ribs rattle as he draws another painful breath. The angel bites her lip, eyes bright with worry.

"It's not gonna be enough, Ange," Reyes mutters, watching out of the corner of his eye.

The angel flings him a look of ferocity. "You think I am unaware?" she snaps.

"Ignore him," the older woman says, throwing the Commander a dark look as she pushes to her feet. She snaps her fingers, turning sharply on her heel and making her royal blue coat flare around her.

"Jesse. With me."

The cowboy follows her without complaint, giving the angel a pat on the shoulder as he goes.

"I'll get a stretcher," the woman explains as she leaves, turning to give the angel a severe look over her shoulder. "We've got to get him out of the snow. After that, it's your discretion."

The angel hesitates—body tensed like she wants to argue—before she goes slack, nodding.

"Fine. Thank you, Ana."

The woman gives a curt nod before whirling to leave, the cowboy trotting after her.

Alone with the angel and the Commander, Genji finally gives into exhaustion and lets his eyes close. He doesn't think he'll be able to open them again. He listens the angel rises to her feet, standing over his body.

"Let him go, Angela." The Commander. Of course.

"You do not get to make that decision!"

 _"Neither do you,"_ the Commander's voice is a low growl that rumbles out of his chest. Genji wonders if he's standing over the angel—trying to crowd her, intimidate her. He wonders if he's on his knees begging. "Stop this, Angela. You're only gonna hurt yourself."

"Halt die Klappe," the angel snarls back at him, but the Commander presses on.

"There is no version where this goes well!" he yells.

"You do not know that!" she rages back. "How can you deny me the chance to save—?"

"I don't care about him!" the man cuts her off. "I don't give a shit if he lives or dies, Angela, because _you_ are my responsibility, and if that means cutting you off when you don't know how to stop _giving,_ then that's what I'll do." He breaks off with a frustrated huff. _"Dios en el cielo,_ you'd chop off your fucking _arm_ if you thought it would do any good!"

"And what is wrong with that?" she shouts. Genji wants to open his eyes—wants to see her expression, her posture, wants to watch her stand up to his great man who would leave him for dead—but he can't feel anything. The angel sounds like she's underwater, a hundred miles away. There's a pounding in his head that he feels in his chest.

"Angela, for god's sake, you can't save _everyone—"_

"I am an agent of Overwatch," she cuts him off, voice like hot coals, live embers. Her words blister and burn. "I will do everything in my power to save everyone that I can. That is my honor as a _doctor—"_

"What if he wants to die?"

Silence. The angel makes no noise.

"Huh? Did you think of that, Dr. Ziegler?" Voice like barbed wire and razor blades. Genji winces just at the sound of it.

"Leave me, Gabriel," she says softly. Her voice is closer than it had been before. Genji feels the faint touch of a gentle hand brushing hair away from his forehead. "I am not asking."

There's a pause, before Genji hears the faraway sound of crunching snow. The angel mutters some words under her breath that he doesn't catch. He feels himself drifting away.

Above him, the angel speaks.

"I will see you when you wake," she whispers. "Goodnight, Genji."

Genji doesn't even feel the needle she sticks in him, but her darkly divine tone follows him as he goes under.

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm in a weird creative slump because my last couple of fics have really tanked so ??? idk I know that doesn't directly correlate to how good the piece itself is but it's hard to not be discouraged, so I might shake it up a little bit and try some shippy stuff. Who knows how many I'll write. I kinda yell about it [here](http://dominodebt.tumblr.com/post/153800279992/hearts-all-around) a little bit more if you're interested.
> 
> This was inspired by [this piece of art](http://midwestern-duchess.tumblr.com/post/151569295416/wo8ld-when-they-met-for-the-first-time) by [@wo8ld](http://wo8ld.tumblr.com/post/148984039308/when-they-met-for-the-first-time). Super lovely, super great.
> 
> blah blah Genji is dead and Mercy is sad. I don’t know man. I’m in a mood and this is what came out of it. I’ll do better next time.
> 
> _Like this piece? Here’s my billboard!_
> 
> **[MORE OVERWATCH WRITING](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MidwesternDuchess/works?fandom_id=3406514) **
> 
> **[MAIN/PERSONAL BLOG](http://midwestern-duchess.tumblr.com/) **
> 
> **[WRITING DUMP](http://dominodebt.tumblr.com/) **
> 
> **[TWITTER](https://twitter.com/MidwestDuchess) **


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